


You Haunt Me

by Hellaparanoia



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 07:47:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4658400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hellaparanoia/pseuds/Hellaparanoia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>StormChaser!AU where an F5 tornado hits Arcadia Bay and Chloe becomes determine to figure out a way to stop the next big one from destroying another family even if it means risking her life for it. But would she risk Max's life for it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Haunt Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys thanks for stopping by to read my fic! I want everyone to know, I haven't had a tornado experience but close to one a couple times. I live in Florida, so I used my experience of hurricanes and did a lot of research on tornado experiences and the gears you'd need for being a storm chaser. This will be a multi-chapter story so the first chapter will be kinda lengthy and giving backstory.  
> Enjoy!

Chloe let out a long, exaggerated groan and slumped back against the car seat. It was the middle of May, and yeah, shemanage to find decent amounts of tornados that linger around Oregon, but none was “the one”. The bluenette reached over for the seemingly overused state map and folded it back out, looking over carefully of each red and black permeant mark that covered majority of the map; the marks indicating potential tornado touch-downs, missed or failed places she had either made too late or the storm had taken a different course. Which always meant another hour or two drive to get there, even _with_ speeding. The rest of the markings contain times and what category each storm was, with small mental notes around each one to remind herself to be mindful of her money useage.

It’s incredibly tough chasing storms on her own. Especially when it comes to finical problems and looking for “the one”. The certain storm Chloe’s looking for is by far the stupidest plan she came up with since starting her interest on storms that began five years ago. _Shit, five years already? Well, happy anniversary, dad._ The bluenette thought to herself, letting the memories play back to her.

* * *

 

Five years ago, towards the end of May, a lot was taken a toll on the fourteen-year-old Chloe. What started the week a living hell, her best friend Max Caulfield was leaving Arcadia Bay for good. Her dad got a promotion in Seattle and Chloe was utterly _pissed_. She refused to see Max until they stopped by to say goodbye and begged for her friend to stay. Despite it all, no matter how hard both girls fought for it, she ended up leaving anyway.

It was the middle of the fourth night since Max’s departure when sirens played loudly. Chloe stirring from her thoughts and sitting up slowly, her brows furrowed and she propped herself with her elbows, staring between her slightly cracked window and her door. _Are they testing the sirens again? It wouldn’t be the first time they made everyone bat-shit crazy with the weird tests…_

Biting the inside of her cheek, her stomach doing small flips, she hesitantly shifted over to the edge of her bed, her feet touching the wooden floor softly and she pushed herself up, heading towards her door before it nearly burst open, William standing in her doorway nearly frantic while Joyce was heard running around grabbing what was essential.

“Dad? What’s—“

“Chloe,” William cut her off, stepping forward to take her hand in his and tugged her towards Joyce who was zipping up a knapsack before wrapping an arm around her daughter. “Go with your mother to the bunker, okay? I’ll go and grab Bongo.”

Her mouth opening to protest but nothing coming out, Joyce pulled her downstairs and opening the sliding glass door, Chloe’s face being smacked with reality of what’s happening around her. Strong winds hitting her and Joyce with heavy rain and small hail, she quickly turned her head and looked back, her eyes scanning her house for both her dad and her cat before lightning illuminating what was causing the sirens blaring and the sudden winds, rain, and hail. A black, eerie, gigantic tornado was slowly tearing its way through Arcadia Bay.

And heading straight to them.

With both her dad and Bongo _still_ somewhere inside.

Fear and panic piercing through Chloe’s mind and body, she acted without thinking and turned her body around to start running back inside, calling out for the two inside. The blonde suddenly realizing that she wasn’t getting any closer back to the sliding glass door—she was going _away_ from it. Her heart becoming million pieces of glass, she turned her head to look at Joyce, who was carrying her daughter to the bunker. Her shouts and protests being easily outnumbered by the eerie tornado creeping up closer and closer.

Setting her daughter down once they both made it safely inside, Joyce stepped out for a moment to look for her husband, biting the inside of her cheek harshly while scanning everything she could while being mindful of debris starting to kick up before forcefully going back inside and shutting the door with a grunt, the wind not making it any easier to close it. Fighting with the wind for a good minute, she finally managed to get the door shut and lock it up.

The rest was a blur to Chloe. The horrifying sounds coming from outside, Joyce holding onto her and cradling her head carefully to protect her at all cost, the door rattling every thirty seconds (she only knows because her eyes were glued onto the door and counted each second of it moving), her own body trembling and her mind blank—telling her to do nothing _but_ watch the door.

And she did.

Her blue eyes locked on the door the whole ten minutes.

The whole ten minutes and nothing changed from its regular pattern; rattling, lightning flashing every millisecond with thunder coming right behind, and Joyce’s words to keep her daughter calm.

Chloe was far from calm. She knew better ever since William and Bongo didn’t come a minute after the door was locked shut.

When Joyce pulled away, she didn’t hear a single word from her. She only followed her up the stairs and back to their backyard, her eyes scanning slowly all around her; the swing set that was perfect became a mess. One was tangled on the legs and the other half bent in an acute angle, seemingly no chance of it being fixed. Not that Chloe cared anymore. Majority of the trees that surrounded her house and the block were either gone, bent in an askew way, or at the brisk of despair.

The house, on the other hand, was still standing. It lost majority of its paint and either small pieces or chunks of the wood was gone or fighting to stand in its place. The roof damaged since it did protect what it could, windows broken in many different ways with some debris sticking out in a coupl—

_Wait._

She could have sworn she heard her heart break and shatter. _There’s no way it could happen, right? What are the chances?_ Sprinting inside the trashed house, she headed upstairs as fast as her legs would let her, ignoring that she was bare foot and stepping on sharp objects. Not the important objective right now.

 _Okay—calm down, Chloe. He’s fine. Bongo’s fine. They’re both fine. They—they were able to stay out of everything._ Feeling as if her heart was about to burst and explode, she reached with shaky hands to push the door to her parents’ bedroom open, hesitantly peaking over.

The first thing that caught her eyes was how utterly destroyed the room was. The closet doors open and broken, clothes from it scattered along the room, papers and books all over the place, their bed shifted in a weirdly angle she couldn’t figure out at the moment (or thought about) and her heart beat accelerating as the window finally caught her eyes in a firm grasp. And then the monstrous piece of wood that probably came from one of their neighbors (they always enjoyed starting projects but never finishing them). Her gaze following where it led to and—

_Oh god._

* * *

 

Chloe snapped herself away from the horrifying memory to prevent herself on remembering what it looked like from there on. Wiping her eyes with her jacket sleeve before any tears could get any close to falling, she inhaled sharply and held her breath for a few seconds. Exhaled with a shaky breath.

This wasn’t the first time she found herself looking back at the memory. It happened whenever she was finished capturing vile information about the tornado she was chasing; it doesn’t even matter anymore what category it was. Her stupid brain would go back to that stupid and horrible memory.

And she hates it.

Reaching into her jackets pocket, she pulled out her crumbled up cigarette pack and opened it. Scoffing she had one left, she cursed as she thought about it for a good minute—then decided to throw it on the floor in frustration. More to herself than anything—or anyone. But she knew that was also a lie.

Occasionally, Chloe would go back and forth on blaming herself, her dad, Joyce, Max, and then Bongo. Herself for not realizing what the hell was going on until it was too late, William for going back for Bongo and not returning, Joyce for not doing anything but try to comfort her, Max for leaving her ass in Arcadia Bay and with the shittest bad luck that came after that, and Bongo for not following suit after her when she was heading to their shelter.

The whole being-mad-at-everyone-and-everything part became worse each year. She became more pissed off at Max for not texting or calling—or _something,_ especially since the tornado façade. Truthfully, she was torn on being who to be _more_ pissed off at. Joyce or Max. Joyce started to date again half a year prior to what happened and then married the guy a year later. David was an ex-solider and spent majority of his years in combat until recently where his mental health couldn’t take it anymore.

When Joyce first bought David home, Chloe was locked up in her room per-usual but came downstairs when she heard someone else was here. Their greeting was _far_ from excellent. She stared at the newly couple—mostly in disbelief until she saw the way Joyce was looking at him—and then they exchanged a small and quick kiss, which pushed Chloe to go up and start yelling at both adults.

At Joyce for getting over William so fast and decide to forget about him (Which Joyce tried to get her to understand. Obviously failed) and David for trespassing onto her home and that he should _“Get the fuck out”_. In the end, she and David argued over who’s house it was, why they’re dating and why Chloe is overacting and she stop being childish. Even today, the argument still comes up every once in a while; even if she’s home or not. And somehow— _somehow_ —he always knows where she is. It honestly creeps the _crap_ out of her. She went as far as attempting to buy another phone with a new number, but yet again, David finds it and manages to track her. _Bet the douche got my number from Joyce. Prick._

At Max for—well—blowing her off for her new life in Seattle. When a month passed, Chloe slowly started to think Max wouldn’t contact her in some way. _Because if she did, she would have by now,_ she told herself back then. She knew Max better than herself; Max would have contacted her (or showed up) the _second_ she found out about the tornado, William, and Bongo. Then why _didn’t_ she? Hell if Chloe knows.

Then a year passed, two, four, and now _five._ Five years without a single word from her...ex-best friend. Yeah, Chloe met some people while traveling along Oregon. They never really meant much, but it beats texting Frank about her debt or about something incredibly stupid. Like his stupid freaking love of beans. _Dude is crazy obsessed over beans. It’s hella funny though._

Then there’s Trevor and Justin, two drug-addict skaters that she could sort of relate to. At least, that’s what she keeps telling herself. She met them one night while in Portland and found them both completely baked and drunk as hell near her motel. The two were arguing over some dumb skate trick that obviously neither of them could do and Chloe _adoring_ the idea of showing them off, she went to them, took one of their boards, and perfectly did a tre flip. She earned their respect and of course, they praised her for being able to do such a “tricky” trick.

After that, she met others in the same situation as Trevor and Justin: baked and/or drunk as hell. Not that it bothered her. In fact, it made things more interesting and allowed her to forget _why_ she was chasing dangerous storms. Then it varied. She met people who are sort of in the same bad spot as her; escaping reality with drug and/or alcohol abuse, running away from their towns and homes for whatever reason (they were split even of being stupid reasons or fairly good reasons to Chloe), or they drove the three to five hour drive for the outstanding-hard-to-miss parties.

So her curiosity got to her one night in Medford and she decided to check out a party. Flyers were scattered along the city and she found out the time and place and figured, _why the fuck not?_ She went in her usual attire, not really giving any crap on who cares that she didn’t dress like everyone else did and she ended up drunk and baked as hell. At some point, she found herself crowd surfing to a punk band and then the next thing she knew, she was in a fist fight with some guy getting touchy with some cute girl. The said cute girl, Chloe noticed earlier before the shit storm started, had her honey blonde hair down to her mid-waist and wore a plaid button down with a black tank top underneath and high-waist shorts and topping it off with her own pair of combat boots; the outfit fitting _perfectly_ with her figure and making Chloe nearly _melt_ at the sight.

Hell, she didn’t even notice she was staring at her until she stared right back at her and gave her a crooked smile and a wink, sending shivers down Chloe’s spine unnoticeably. She was blushing too—she hopes. Because she sure as hell can’t afford to get sick now. Especially with someone like _her_ flirting with a messed up punk of all people in the room. Her gaze was torn away when she noticed a guy walking towards her, a glass of some form of heavy liquor and gave her a devilish grin, pressed his body against her to cause her to be pinned against the beam she was against. She tried to get the lanky, drunken body off of her while shouting at him to get away from him which was blanked out by the blasting music and people either screaming, shouting, singing along, or all of the above.

Chloe didn’t think once she saw his hand rest on her hips, making their way to her inner thighs. She dropped her drink on a nearby table, turned her hands into fists, nearly _sprinted_ towards him, and peeled him away by grabbing him by his arm, her right arm moving back before quickly throwing a fist to his face hard, earning a loud crack to indicate she most likely just broke his nose, making Chloe grin proudly.

The hit was strong enough for him to stumble back into a group of people dancing, their attention (much like most people around them) turned to the fight that was forming. In the end, Chloe won with a couple bruises on her face and hands, along with a bloody nose, and the guy knocked out against his friends with his face _completely_ messed up. In return for saving the girl, she took the bluenette away from the scene to take care of her mess.

They made small talk, Chloe finding out her name is Rachel Amber and she was from Arcadia Bay as well. She found out Rachel was just out of town for a photo op with someone named Mark Jefferson that she was meeting with in a couple days and also found out how much she and Rachel had in common. Left hometown for a better life, shitty family, shitty past, and yet—Chloe noticed she never dragged it out and noted mentally the thing that she spotted the most out of her feature was her smile. Rachel’s smile was radiant.  It felt warm and comforting to her and knew, _just knew,_ she could trust her.

Afterwards, the two continued to see each other after the party and before Rachel had to leave for her photo op. The short time they spent together didn’t stop them from getting incredibly close. They shared stories about their past and present, where they’ve both been, dreams they both had, and eventually broke it down with lame as hell jokes. Rachel usually visited Chloe at her motel, where the two got baked and got drunk the whole time Rachel stayed.

When it came to Rachel’s photo op, however, Chloe was hesitant. She _finally_ found someone who understood her. Someone who isn’t afraid of her outburst of anger and frustration. Someone who _wouldn’t_ push her away. But she didn’t want to leave, despite that she’s been obviously ignoring her work to be with Rachel. Even if it’s been a few days of knowing someone she met at a party, she felt like she was her angel; saving her from the bottom pits of hell she’s stuck in.

Chloe decided the least she could do was drive Rachel to wherever the hell the photo op was at. She stated, openly, how creepy Jefferson sounded. And stated it _again_ when they were in front of the building. Of course, the blonde shrugged it off and took it as a joke and said everything would be fine. When she was opening the door to get out and leave, she pulled the bluenette into a tight hug, telling her she would text her soon of how things went and hoped everything went smoothly for Chloe’s chasing adventures. She returned the hug, slightly tighter than hers, and thanked her; stating clearly if she needs her to come back and save her (again), she’s only a text or call away, earning Rachel’s famous bright smile when they pulled away from their embrace.

She stayed in front of the building for a couple minutes, watching her new close friend disappear and waited to see if she was in need. Seeing as everything was fine, she drove away and out of Medford.

That happened a year ago and not a word as came from her since their departure. _First Max, then dad, and now Rachel? The fuck, man?!_

Again, the bluenette found herself back down memory lane and again, she found herself nearly in tears.

Her thoughts being pulled away from her phone buzzing, the sudden vibration causing her to jolt up and hit her head on the ceiling, “Mother _fucker!_ ” She hissed and rubbed her head, reaching for her phone that was setting on the dashboard. Unlocking her phone to look at who was texting her, she rolled her eyes when she saw _Joyce_ on the status bar. Deciding it’d be better to read the text and reply whenever, she tapped her thumb on it once she pulled the status bar down and suddenly, her whole body froze.

Reading the text over and over again, her brows furrowed in a mixture of frustration and happiness, her stomach doing flips each time she read the text over.

**_Joyce_ **

**_05/09 8:49 AM_ **

_Hate to be a burden of your…work…but Max Caulfield just walked in and asked for you. Are you by Arcadia Bay?_

Her heart pounding, she chewed the inside of her cheek and looked back at her screen when she felt her phone buzz again.

**_Joyce_ **

**_05/09 8:59 AM_ **

_Chloe Price answer me. She’s lookin’ for you, for Christ sake! I know y’all haven’t spoken for five years, but she’s hear now, Chloe. Least you can do is show up and talk…_

Groaning loudly and hitting her forehead on her wheel— _Ouch—_ she hesitated a moment before moving her fingers to reply back.

**_05/09 9:01 AM_ **

_Chill, mom. I’ll show up_

_Only an hour or two away_

_Tell Max I’ll be there_

Closing her phone once she sent the messages and read them over carefully, she huffed and threw her phone to the seat next to her, landing in her piles of maps and notes. _I can’t fucking believe Max Caulfield is back. Max. Caulfield. Of all people._ Shifting in her seat, she leaned forward to grab her pack of cigarettes and took out her lone survivor, reaching for her blue lighter (which matches her beanie) and lit it with one flick, inhaling the nicotine and exhaled a cloud of smoke filling the atmosphere around her easily, her windows still down. _Am I_ really _going back to see her?_

_Fuck it._

She turned the keys already sitting in the ignition and started her truck up, stepping on the gas pedal and speeding her way back to Arcadia Bay and eventually rolled down her windows to let some breathing air back in, despite how _badly_ she wants the nicotine to swallow her breath out right now.

_Alright, Max. Let’s see what you have to say after these five fucking years of nothing._

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, when I started to type this it was getting a bit hard because I wanted to not say the wrong things about tornado and such alike, so majority of the time I spent is researching and writing down notes about what I found. That being said, I'm not entirely sure if any of it is right or not, so feel free to correct me (in general too) so I can make the next chapter better.  
> Half way through, I was actually afraid I was being too legnthy, so if it does become too much, I'll just cut it down in the next chapter.  
> So, anyway! Hoped you guys enjoyed the first chapter! You can leave feedback on here or go to my tumblr (hella-paranoia) and give me feedback there as well  
> As for the next update, I'm not sure when it'll be because I'm starting college on Monday, so I'll try my best to have it back by next Friday


End file.
